''Tis Red Carpet,Nip-Slips&Awards Season!''


          “On the Carpet”

All the Jennifers, the Berry’s,

Angelina’s, Lindsay’s, too-

And the cameras with their zoom-

How many ample-chests

In designer dresses

Can you fit into one room?

Left boob appears to be peaking out,

Could there be a ‘Nipple –Slip?”

And if the hors d’oeuvres

Were on a higher table,

It could end up in the dip!

How does it feel, you hapless few,

I mean deep inside the soul, your inner heart-

To know the night’s really more about your body parts

Than it is about your art?                                         (Beijing, Feb26,2013)

            “Leave Well Enough and Pipes, Alone!”

                 (on censorship, really..)


Oh, what to do with you…?

With you, and your censoring type:

He HAD BEADY eyes,

Loved small children,


Truth to tell, no one really knows,

So, just leave it and walk away-

His ruddy complexion, red cheeks and red nose

Came easy with three rum and nogs per day.,

Yes, even the famed ho-ho-ho’s!


In the back- forty, way out there by the shed

Were his great team of reindeer, well-slept and, yes, well-fed.

Yet Donner and Blitzen, not pleased at all those two with their names

Knew well Kris’ night-prowls

And OH Dear! A few special X-reindeer games

This, too, was close to the little ones,

Always toiling, those pointy-eared  elves

Of course they had their stories, too

And knew of ‘pre-dawn’ raids,  themselves!


Even he though  never smoked, while out back there, near the barn,

Never wanting his “deer”, ever, to come to any -harm!

Himself a rep, card-carrying member of Reindeer-Keepers Four-Twelve.

Though he wouldn’t abide talk or union himself, for those little elves…


Little-known was that most came from Africa, India, and  such faraway places,

 Pointy ears, yes, big white smiles in dark faces;

Oh, yes, to a one, at Santa’s beck and call

Happy in their  straw beds, no benefits-those Immigrants, all!


 You, there, with your whiteout like some stupid magic-wand

 You like life-its good parts- of those-oh , yes!- you’re  fond.

But the rest, in those shadows, the not so-happy-fare

Those, you try to conceal lest the children might be scared

So, life is all sunrise, there’s no setting sun…

But  darkness comes to us all, my friend:

That, you simply can’t outrun.


 So you there, with your whiteout, go paint your nails and then your knees!

Just stop trying to change our history; stop changing fact there, if you please

(On hearing that one independent female Canadian publisher edited/revised the favourite traditional Christmas lyric, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’  to omit Santa’s nicotine addiction/filthy smoking habit!! Come on! Get another cat; Fall, 2012, Beijing!)

Go! Take it elsewhere., whatever Please-Just Leave


Stop trying to change our history; stop changing fact, if you please

(On hearing that one independent female Canadian publisher edited/revised the favourite traditional Christmas lyric, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’  to omit Santa’s nicotine addiction/filthy smoking habit!! Come on! Get another cat; Fall, 2012, Beijing!k.p.)

Fraser River sunset, Vancouver, B.C.


The engine of any good, engaging story is CONFLICT and CONFLICTis most-often CHaracter-driven.

By which, I mean to say it is CHARACTER that provides CONFLICT and draws us, as readers and viewers, into the whole experience.The wonderful CGI -generated Roman Colisseum in all its splendor in the Ridley Scott film is only revealed to us after we have followed the enslaved gladiator Maximus there. (May02,2015-Kim P.)

“At the BBQ”

 Oh, My, Knits and Knats there were,

And they were everywhere-

With not a wit between ‘em.

Mozzies, too, but they all bowed

To the Moth and the king of the No-SeeUm’s.

Most there, they led just Spartan lives

Becayuse they liked the space, the order,

But others, too, like the Snailman, always coming late-

Was more of what we call a hoarder…;

You see, all that he owned and all that he loved, his tiny-hard refuge-home,

He carried everywhere right on his back-

But whenever he did arrive at wherever he was going,

There was always a certain something  he lacked.

Then there were the beetles, a queer and solitary lot

Who mostly stayed apart, aloof and bickered.

And, lo, above them all sat he, stone-still, the spiderwhowhile watching…only .snickered.(Oct.15,2013, Beijing,KimP.)

"Expendable is Right, Sly."

Just saw the other night the last twenty minutes/half an hour of Stallone's homage to guns and stupidity, "The Expendables2" I'm sure that's why it made no sense at all to me. I'm sure the really interesting, engaging part of the story was missed, leaving me only with all those close-up's of an aging stallone, blotchy and puffy-faced, his steroidal, leonine arteries bulging dangerously on his throat and shouting to his equally sad-looking co-star, Arnie, "I'm OUT!" Oh, did he say a mouthful, there. He is out of the game, but like the part-namesake that made him a giant star-Rocky- he doesn't know when to quit, so continues to take a beating on the big-screen. Time to hang up the gloves and guns, my friend- and surprize both yourself and us with some good acting in a quiet, even dignified dramaric, non-action role. THAT'S WHERE YOUR FUTURE/FUTURE MARKET LIES, not in the 'shootemup's You've had more than twice your "fifteen minutes/years", so to borrow a line from your own dialogue where Rambo pulls the bloodied face of Deputy-sheriffGalt in close to him and growls,"Let it Go!" Let it Go, Sly...Let it go. The muscles can't last, and to try taking them any further, you only risk embarrassing tourself.Nobody wants to seethat. So stop the wishful-thinking of franchise-creation..., and just write a good story-that's what helped Rocky beat Apollo. (May02nd,2015-Kim P.)



                               There’s lots of examples ,of course-of coming back stronger after the fall…

                              Jim and Tammy, Bill and Hilary, and spotlights, too, show Tiger and Kobe,

                             I know you know many,too, you could probably show me..

                           To err is human, God knows, and they say forgiveness divine

                           Yet we welcome them back and embracethem, time after time

                           A few never come back, and perhaps our Adam is one;

                          Daily vanquished, our moon, and so, too there, the sun..

                      Yes, some like Mr. Dumpty who sat on his wall-

                           Don’t come back stronger, don’t come back at all!      (June22,2013, Beijing)


         “At the Soiree”

At the party, better-connected than ever before…(?ha)

But “hamartia” and “hubris” might as well be

On the table by the chicken wings, and serving as dips

When our’Net’ shows only the “frocks that rock”, and those latest “nip-slips”

We record and read history, but I still must ask why

When we make planes that go faster, and cruise-ships in the sky

So why spend so much time…if we’re never-ever to learn-

Or as the icecaps they melt, is just our turn to burn..?    (June18,2013, Beijing)


"Dead Man"


“You are the first man…

I’ve slept with who was

dead, ” she said.


“What?” was my feeble defence,

rolling away, most of me knowing,

my cells nodding in subconscious understanding.


“You brought only your lips

and an erection to bed with you,” she finished,

with some of me still on her cheek.               


                                                                        May 31/02


Daddy’s Little Girl


She cried me into an erection that night, that girl.

Her drowning, beautiful eyes

Gasping like stolen fish hung in air to die,

Still moist and glistening blue –

Starlike and sparkling with a sad life,

And reminded of dead fathers by older souls.


She was so strong, so weak, in such a hot, deep-fried moment, so stunning

In that willowy sadness, that sad beauty there: Daddy’s little girl.

And , now, realizing Daddy’s lap is gone….


Her blonde, yes, blonde hair, a cascade

Of invitation and excitement,

Her baggy, breezy black shorts touching

Her in just enough, the right places..enticing.


But I am a syrupy solace, now,..

This night I am a masculine hug, with a strong

Wisdom in the enveloping arms, and I will help              June 13, 2002

To wipe the fears away –

While concealing a very instinctual

Arousal of colossal proportions..for dying daughters everywhere.

IT'S ALL BUM-RAP!(for da rappas..)

“Just One  Thing Mo’”

Got a lot to share with all my rapper-friends.. oh, yeah-

Sittin’ poolside, vodka-ice, hold that gold record up towards the sky;


 ain’t that nice, plenty of time to get high

But ‘for I leave,just one thing mo’-

Many words do, but “love”, it don’t rhyme with ho’.

Where’s the stories, the play, the dance?-

All just gone, a puff of smoke vanished ,like sweet old romance;

Give ‘em what they want- and your girl, too.No suspense-Here it is!

She’ll pull out that stick, even when black and blue-

Oh  that’s a ‘roger’,''Bomber', she’ll shimmy it, too;

Will she be a grandma? What then will you do?

No bumcheek-slappin’ applause, then, if you please..

If now you only ‘love’ her when she’s down there on her knees

Like you, she’s got hopes and dreams and so much mo’

Just remember- that “love”, it don’t rhyme with ho’.(Beijing, April19, 2014 –Kim P.)

DON'T SWEAT SMALL stuff, my ass!(not one of those smaller things..)

“Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff”(Canto I)

Platitudes are nice and all-

And even empty, are not so small;

We often spout the words they have

But rarely do we heed their call:

Listen! Listen!

Baby-steps are rather small,

But without

‘em, we don’t walk at all…

So Mom and Dad there, eagle-eyed and always ready..

With hands of encouragement to keep our good ship steady;

And, Ken says in his “Civil War”, more died…

From bacterial infection, than ever from  outright wounds,

And tiny notes begat our history’s finest  tunes;

So said his friends to Goliath, as he stepped forth..

To face the boy- soldier with stones in his hand.

       “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (CantoII)

What of the oncologist who ignores some cancerous cells,

Or the parent at the pool who misses a few little yelps or  tiny yells…

Yes, it’s a nice, little platitude, we recite to all our friends

But few of us follow it daily, time and time and again

The Great Wall- and those Pyramids! Started all with small blocks and bricks

What hurts we most recall from childhood are memories of verbal stones and sticks!Bruises heal.

 The universe, itself, and each within us, there, ourselves

Is filled with gazillions of microscopic, little cells-   Some of those are helpful, and some  we know are bad,

 but we must attend to  all, my friendsl-Whether they be happy or even sad.   (June19, 2013, Beijing)l

Nelson’s Ball


There, in a quiet museum,

Sitting under glass…

In a small, gold locket, a tiny, brain-bespattered ball

That saw the inside of Admiral Nelson’s head and was the one that ended it all-

Yes, on the field, there, at old Waterloo,(NOPE-SEE BELOW)

The battle where Napoleon had his great fall,

Also, Admiral Nelson, felled by a ball…

You can see in the locket, in the case by the wall,

The bit of lead with the brains-

Yes, there, there is Nelson’s ball.               Oct 20th,2012, Beijing


(ED NOTE-NOT Waterloo, but Trafalgar,BUT OF COURSE!)



 A Dry, Dusty Place!


  In a dry, dusty heart,

In a dry, dusty place,

Tight-lipped, they murmur quickly

About always losing ‘face’.

Invaders, they all, they all came and went,

And most of those, without trace..

To the land of the diligent

That dry, dusty place

To the heart of the dragon

The Dragon, in  red lace…,

They came, sure and saw But never truly conquered

 That dry, dusty place.                   Oct 20,2012, Beijing!


“Literary Frontier”

“Think back to those brave, early  literary pioneers

Looking down at blank pages, setting aside all those blocks and fears;

Some were bold and struck out-

Without time to prepare, think or  to doubt...

across the vast, open wasteland, that vast white expanse,

some with tablecloths and garters, some just the seats of their pants-

and into various 'parties', groups., for the journey they combined

Like Characters and Plot Twists and Transitions, too, were fine,

Exposition ,Description and Narration, all together they would ride;

Adverbs, Adjectives, Conjunctions-all there ,yes, side by side. Across

that desert-plain they rambled, day after day, after day after night-

With snow-capped mountains in the distance, and rumors of GOLD!-Oh what a sight!

Always wary of hostiles-Dangling Participles, Fragments and such,

Of liking some words too often, and others not enough! The Clauses, the Phrases

had to be ordered just so

because-even then- in the shadows, there were critics, you know!

There's gold in them thar mountains,

And in that, they spoke plain true-

Rich deposits of character, and tales on every tree  of glee and rue-between you and me-

Why, everywhere a writer could look there was something for his pen to see!


(Nov.17, 2013-Kim P.)




 Hard to better;

In fact, you couldn’t really ask for more..

Than a clique of hard-nosed assassins

Meeting above a modest candy store-

That’s the way of it, the way it was in

Brownsville Brooklyn, N.Y.,N.Y. from 1931-41,

Its members wrecked havoc, killed/committed

Anywhere-it is estimated from 75 to 200 murders across the country, from New York to Las Vegas, Pasadena to Pittsburgh, New Orleans to Chicago and Boston.

These elite, ‘special’ mobsters-, killers all, were

Mostly Italian and Jewish men who had grown up together in their youth in the violent street gangs

Of Brooklyn and the Bronx, New York. Because the mob, nationwide, often hired hitmen(local and freelancers..), to ‘distance’ themselves from such criminal activity.

So, an’Entrepreneurial group’ formed their own posse of elite assassins known for their methodical approach, and “professionalism”,almost flawless success in killing people the mob wanted eliminated. All sorts of weapons were used, and ,generally, each had his own preferred signature- style from shotguns to icepicks!

Meyer Lansky, Heimy Weiss, ‘Kid Twist’ Reles, ‘Lucky Luciano,.


These men- this group became the radical “enforcement-wing” (read execution-branch!)

Although allof the mob families had their own ‘in-house’ assassins, if they ever wanted to further distance themselves from the act/murder, they could reach Murder Inc

These violent delights ..do have violent ends”  Romeo and Juliet.  (February27, 2014, Beijing…K.P.)

"Have You Checked Your Buboes, Today?"

Buboes are the lumph nodes found in armpit and gtoin areas, and when pink-red and swollen were characteristic of Medieval Europe's 'The Black Death'-bubonic plague, ot of whose horrors grew one of the most berloved nursery ryhmes of all time:

''Ring around the rosie....,

Pocket full of posie...-

Tischa, tischa...

We all fall DOWN!'

gIRST THE PINK OR RED RINGS WOULdAPPEAR, at or near the swollen glands, followed by sneezing coughing'Posie referred to the dried flower/herbal mixture thought to contain healing properties against the dreaded disease- but people would often die within days of coughing/sneezing...   WHAT THEY DON'T TELL US, OR SING TO US AS KIDS:

                               'When those rings first do appear-

Oh Little One, there is much to fear!

For you can count your days... when they go pink and red

For you and all your wee friends will soon be dead!    (April07,2015-Kim P.)


He can't take credit for it, but he did,

for flushing waste away(1596)

Because the Minotaur in Minoan palace at Knossos on Crete

saw it first-

an early version of what we still use today!

So, Sir John Harrington-, yes, John Harrington,

You made more than more than  faces flush

when you created that nice big bowl,

For us to rest our tush!

\\and still, to this day you get the nod from many who "have to go"

I have to go now to the "John", and there put on a private show...(?)

I suppose if we went further back,

Some may have used a waterfall..

To wash their 'woes'away, it seems,

But no containment there, you see

They just washed it all downstream!


A CAPITAL IDEA! (or wickedly good tomatoes?!!?

  Shylock’s Pound.”


                   Why even bother,

                   To keep them hanging around?

                   Why warehouse the wicked…in  places unknown?//

                   In rooms built of steel and concrete and stone?//

                   Why feed them, why keep them? Why do we keep them around?//

                   Push them off on the edges..

                   Where they’re mute, make no sound?/


We know they’re still there,

But locked safely away,//

Those dark, evil-things…

That shouldn’t see day;

Nobody wants them//

Our great ‘lost and found,

Then why, oh why(!)then do we keep them hanging around?!//


Stupidly, we think..

Hah, they don’t walk among us-

And we’ve got Shylock’s pound…//

But Why-Oh Why then do we keep them hanging around..?/



Is this a punishment, then,

To keep them from our society..?//

-When they’ve already shown

They’ve no love or propriety:

They can’t live among us, or play by our SIMPLE rules;

Not civilized beings, they don’t have the needed tools.


Forever they walk, if at all, with the mark of Cain-there to the East-

There’s no ‘imprisoning’ their evil, that dark inner- beast.

/Like the good all around, the dark-souled brothers abound

Bu why then, oh why(?) do we keep them hanging around?

                               MondAY Nov.26th2012,

Guess I'm a bit more 'hawkish', then I believed myself...?And we, here in Canada abolished capital punishment in 1977. Since then, at least two serial killers and three oyher convicted murderers have lived out the remainder of their lives behind our bars..., with three meals a day,the best medical care tax-dollars could afford... etc etc...Kill them, cremate them and spread their ashes on the community garden, so even unknowingly, they can make some positive contribution to society before they're gone!Wickedly good tomatoes!??(2012).



              Fanny, may I gently squeeze your little bum,

              Right here between my index and my thumb?

              You sit all day, compress those mounds,

              And rarely, rarely do you make rude sounds.

              An admirable state, yours, to be so adored,

              And still the catcalls, the whistles.. of which you are bored,

              But Jeepers, love-a – duck, you do so entice

              When you move back and forth

               With that famous wiggle, so nice!

               Fanny, fanny, two cheeks more,

               And in-between, a sliding door…

               And there, again, that wiggle- we men so adore;

Oh Fanny oh, fanny, can I see some more?

You there, bright cheeks, with your dividing line a song

Do you wear ‘granny-panties’?

We’re bettin’ it’s a thong!


Black or red, I imagine,

Like a slash of neon, there

And the perfect fine-line

Dividing that lovely  pair!

 You bring with you the “cat’s nose”,

 When things come together in the end,

A place I could snuggle with, for sure,

And maybe call best friend!


Ah-thatWEIRD ENGLISH!!(sounds of silence2?)


                      “Shhhh..! The Neigh-Sayers.”


                       “i before e, except after c” they told us,

Oh-  again and again, they would say                        

      Except in those weird bastard- words remember?- like,uh huh- neighbour and weigh,

                      But there’s always more a’ lurking, in case you forget with the strain-

                     Such as.. “Oh, Yeah!”like reign, feign, vein, rein and that stealthy old “forfeit”-what’s more in store?


                      And all in all, not one “c” to open that strange little door!

                      Your English, is stoopid, and its spelling we’ll fight

                       What about that lonely creature, when the tall folk have   “height?”

                       Or, is the “c” just silent, still there? (hah?! Invisible?) So, too

                        Never-ever start a sentence with “and, or ,  or but!”

If you do, then you'll get comfy in that sentence- fragment rut!

Unless of course, you're William Blake, then all will be forgiven,

But he'd get 100 lashes, sure, if still among the livin'!

 Let only the horses be neigh-Sayers,

No need to  among we women and  men

 We’ll cull all the silent letters-yes, all(like grinch)

Have more ink then left  in the pen!(a cinch.)

and , surely, to you good-spellers

 This is bound to bring some  ire

As you watch us throw more silent letters there high upon the growing pyre

 Be Gone! Be away!

Hamlet said it best, perhaps, with his, “To ‘b’, or not to ‘b’’

Every gardener knows some branches must be pruned to better   grow the tree!

It’s a big, silent family that one - think, too,  pneumonia, she with her “p”

And that one African ungulate, gnu, with his silly not- heard- from  “g”

Some will crawl and hide, others bound to slip away..

Like the errant “knight, that never knows the day!

 We looked, could not find.. any in that favorite sausage ‘salami’.

But sure enough, when we looked we  found a “t”there in tsunami!

Back to that “k” some, the knight, too’s got a friend that he wears like a sock,

When we  hear the castle door speak, it’s always with  a “knock!”


                             Ah-but the grammar cops among us are few and far between,

                               And have  far too much work, like Santa, for them ever to be seen!


 Once upon a time even those  would make some people sorely fret.

But they are, of course gone, now, too, like the wind- did you forget?

We never miss things very long-think, too, now, of the horse!            




       Christina and Gaga do it,

        The president, too;

        Come on, now, you’ve seen his wife, now-be honest,wouldn’t you..?

       T-Rex had sex,

      To make some little T’s

     Hell, even Mike Meyers did it.. for his line of “Mini-Me’s…,

     And Brontosaurus, too

    Can you imagine the thunder..?just between you and me

  Did they ever just “fun” it,

  Or always was the purpose  clear…(K.P.)


As winter wearily wanes its way into Spring...,

Those last tired months of blase, we know what they will bring!



With speeches, sure, but cleavage, and 'nip-slips, too,BUM CLOSE-UP's and MORE!

Oh yeah! The Red Carpets, Red carpets

Award-Season, where the BEST FIGURES, they parade..

In revealing haute couture,

Maybe diamonds, or some jade..

The ladies of the evening will stroll and strut their stuff,

Turning and stopping , even, for paparazzi for a close-up of their butts!

Sure, their acting skills applauded,

But ,in truth, their bodies MORE!

oH(!) IT'S SO EXCITING-WHAT do this year's hold in store!?

Down in Brazil, they do it, too- without so much, pretense..

"Best Bums", they call it there- Now under Hollywood's big tents.

Victoria, too, she knows it, so they're stripped down nearly bare-

One of these days, at Oscar-parties, we'll be counting pubic hair!(Feb10,2015-Kim P.)

"Oh-She's Awake, Alright!"

, alrightThe dragon with ADHD,

Kinda quiet, really, and does so like..

To curl up at the back of her cave, by herself, to be alonealright;

She may seem a little dozy...

To the casual,and untrained eye-

But there's no doziness, I promise

When she takes off to fly;

Oh, trust me, then she's fully wide awake

and when guarding her scrambling ,hungry brood, she nary takes a break.

There's much less smoke now, when  it used to be much higher

But don't you be fooled at all when she's still-

The lady- she still btreathes fire! (Feb.08,2015-Kim P.)

"Ah-that English tickles..."(SOUNDS OF SILENCE?)

                      “Shhhh..! The Neigh-Sayers.”


                       “i before e, except after c” they told us, again and again they would say

                       Except in those weird,  bastard words like neighbour and weigh,

                      But there’s always more lurking, in case you forget?-

                      Like.. “Oh, Yeah!”like reign, feign, vein, rein and stealthy old “forfeit”-what’s more in store?


                      And all in all, not one “c” to open that door!

                      Your English, is stoopid, and its spelling we’ll fight

                       What about that lonely creature, called “height?”

                       Or, is the “c” just silent, still there? (hah?!)

             ** ** **

So, too, Never-ever start a sentence with “and, or and but!”

Or then you’ll  get comfy in that sentence fragment rut!?

 Let only the horses be neigh-Sayers,

No need to among we men

 We’ll cull all the silent letters-yes, all

Have more ink left in our  pen!

and , surely, to good-spellers

 This doubtless will cause ire

As they watch us throw more silent letters on the growing  pyre

 Be Gone! Be away!

Hamlet said it best, perhaps, with his, “To ‘b’, or not to ‘b’’

Every gardener knows some branches must be pruned to better grow the tree!

It’s a big family, think pneumonia, she there with her “p”

And that one African ungulate, gnu, with his funny, initial “g”

Some will crawl and hide, others bound to slip away..

Like the errant “knight, that never knows the day!

 We looked, could not find.. any in that sausage ‘salami’.

But sure enough, we looked and found a “t” there in tsunami!

Back to that “k” some, the knight, too’s got a friend that he wears like a sock,

When we  hear the door speak, it’s always with a “knock!”

 ‘Plosives, I tell you, ‘stop-consonants all’;

 They shout to get our attention, then slink away down the hall.

Like head lice, we’ll weed them all out with our comb-

Oh! One more “b” to send sliently  home!

                              Nov 7-10,2012

"One girl"

Oh-so willingly did she give of her charms,

Wrapped in both her legs and her arms-

from high school biology where-suitably impressed-

And still, all those years later, in the pub,barely dressed was she

 that I knew the meaning of "cryogenic";i pays to enrich your vocabulary...(Jan.8,2015-K.P.)

"So I took off my hat, said Imagine that!"

                          “Inside the Lines” ‘(aka, ‘Au Contraire!’)


                 “Now, stay INSIDE the lines you, children-   

                 You must stay INSIDE THOSE LINES!”         

                 But to a one, when asked, just “Why?”

                None could answer, So I’d have to pay those fines!


                   Oh, CURSIVE, you!, “Stay inside those lines!”

                   Shout those teacher- police…

                  ‘Your loop is too big here; your dot is missing,

                   And worse, you forgot to cross your t’s!’

                   (Sometimes-Get this!- I’d even pray

                   When not kneeling on my knees!)         

                   Then there’s always the one “suck-up”,

                    Like Mary-Beth, she daily  with her perfect loops and dots,

                   However, to please the older teacher…

                   Was the first-always- of her few thoughts!

                    Then there were those of us on the periphery,

                      the outer edges you might say, in fact-

                    But we all had special skills and such..

                    That Mary-Beth, she lacked:

                    Some were knives with no sharp edges,

                    A few forks, too, that had no tines-

                    And there always in the middle sat she,

                    Mary-Beth, between-the-lines!


                    The “why?”, it never bothered her,

                     With her bowed head and loops to go;

                     ‘We must stay inside the lines!’ was

                      The only thing she’d know…


                    She would stand alone at recess,

                    By herself, there, by the fence:

                     No smiles or laughter, no play, no fun-

                     No social skills, or sense.                          

                    Yet once back in the classroom,

                    Ensconced in that middle aisle-

                    and only When the teacher said, “Begin!”

                     Then, you would see her smile!        ( Tues, Dec 04th,2012, Beijing)


.idon't know quite what to say. It's like this, I think. Some people see the world through NUMBERS, geometric patterns and the like,others see the world through textures, shapes and colours I, for as long as I can reMEmber, see the world through RHYME-THAT IS THE FILTER THROUGH which my perceptions of this world are squeezed. Many-too many, in fact, in my humble opinion- are even dismissive of rhyme as belonging in the realm of young children's literature, as happy,fun little bedtime stories. True,It is that most certainly. \\But it is so much more , too. Rhyme is one of ther oldest, most powerful literary techniques in existence BECAUSE it helps to provide the piece with its musicality, its fundamental rthym and makes it more memorable,rhyh.Like the 90,00 species of fly out thereWe find it used in so much  of our world.and in its many forms,it continues to surprise, engage and amuse usfrom Elie Wiesel's Grinch and Horton, to all strands of the music industry, advdertising/marketing.By my way of thinking, it is probably only second to REPETITION, as most-used, ost effedtive teAching/learning tools!    (dEC.28,2014-kIM p.)

"The Key to it All"

mShakespeare did very well by his "Comedy of Errors' which over the generations has become embedded in our vernacular to describe an unfortunate monent or situation that results from any number of things going wrong or happening.I can't take credit for it, but somewhere along the way,- I think in doing research on 'the great ship', I came across a phrase which meant the same thing and used for the Titanic disaster.., "Cascade of Circumstance !62 year old Edward John Smith, the ill-fated captain of the most-famous maiden-voyage was due to retire after 37 years at sea, most of which, however, were spent at the wheel of sailing vessels. Two of the closest ships that might have provided rescue were her sister ship'The Olympic'(but their captain returned to bed after discovering his radio-operator had retired.., and 'the Californian'-but since she was out and involved  in clandestine illegal seal hunting operation for whichshe was to maintain a low profile..supposedly.) Yes, proportionately speaking, her rudder was quite small for such a large ship. More telling was the fact that because of a crew/shift-change in Southampton,the lookouts in the crow's nest never received the key to th locker holding the binoculars!They had no binoculars in the Crow's Nest which may have saved over 1500 lives.By the way, the title 41-46"? refers to the coordinates  of exact position Titanic went downSweat the small stuff!.(Dec07,2014-Kim P.)

(Dec07,2014)     Kim P.

"So Misguided"

Michael Brown in Ferguson. Eric Garner in NYC. First big call that media is now hyping- a call for policemen to wear body-cams...! Yep-for sure, technology will save the day...!It can only ever record and reveal culpability, who provoked whom, who initiated action, so useful as evidence in the courtroom-but that's it. It doesn't change attitudes, stereotypes, profiling. And what did we lesarn from the 'history' of the 60's? That we are doomed to repeat things over and over.Body-cams? Come-on Quick-fix? Is there a pill you can take for "racism"?Education/re-education, maybe, better-screening of cop candidates..? It all takes time.., and time is running out on the boiling pot.     (Dec07,2014-Kim P.)

Just saw another news feature on how this heinous, cowardly terrorist organization,I.S.I,L. receives a good portion of its funding through the sales of 'stolen' oil in some of its conquered territories. Never a peep mind you on what I think the root-question should be in the story: WHO'S buying this oil, then, and in what form..?The buyers should be targeted by any allied coalition     ! No demand-no supply, right? And what form does this oil take? Crude oil is useless to most of us; you sure can't put it in your car/truck!  (Dec07, 2014)    Kim P.

Me, Me, Me!

I was born and raised in Sarnia, Ontario.Attended King George6th, Northern ... before family relocated to Vancouver, B.C.=Coquitlam)Finished and graduated from Centennial Senior High where I also played football and was managing-editor of our student newspaper, 'The Catalyst'

Completed my B.A. (English-1982-Magma-Come-Loud/Normal(sic). Have worked as stock-boy, swamper, order-selector, roughneck, forklift-driver, and high school teacher at Sir Winston Churchill in Vancouver and Maple Lesaf Int'l school in Dalian, China!Two books published and available through Amazon or Barnes and Noble.com's: "Maynard and Zeke:A Liar's Playground (2012 and "Akimbo:A Sowbug's Life(2014) The first is humorous fiction while the second is autobiographical! Reach me thru e/m at kimindalian@yahoo.com Comments always welcome.. unless they're bad and then I'll have to kill you, sorry!(Dec.06,2014)   Kim P.

aFTER GRADUATING u.bc(1982.-English)magnus- come- normal(sic)l, I would go on the rather cliche yet for me spectacular backpacking trek of Europe andMediterranean for approxiately ONE YEAR!(!)From East Putnry and Whitechapel in london to Italy's Spanish Steps to the home of the fabled minotaur in ruins of royal palace at Knossos, Crete, the seat of Minoan civilization.. to the outdoor market at Tangiers, Morocco where I bought my jilabba!   OOh-Ah!Once in a lifetime, incredible odyssey where I mert so many wonderful people and had terrific travelmates often!     Kim P